


Truth in a Dare

by telemachus



Category: Pride (2014)
Genre: Hint of Angst, M/M, PWP, consensual voyeurism, eep i really wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4254684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telemachus/pseuds/telemachus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt  - Jonathan fantasizes over watching Gethin have sex with someone else (Jeff?!), convinces a reluctant Gethin to try it, and it’s an intense, positive and safe experience for everyone involved.</p><p>Only of course, I can never write straight to a prompt. (appropriately enough, I suppose).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth in a Dare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merle_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/gifts).



> For the rather wonderful Merle_p, & I only hope this is close enough to that prompt that it ticks boxes.....thank you for letting me pick up this one.
> 
>  
> 
> Not written as a sequel to 'You Don't Want Any More From Me', but I guess you could read it that way. If you really wanted to.

Another Pride, another party.

Hot summer day, hot summer night.

Nothing’s the same.

Nothing’s ever the same, but this more than most.

No LGSM.

No Mark.

You wouldn’t think just one person would leave such a gap.

Not if you hadn’t met Mark.

Don’t want to risk seeing who else is missing.

Stay with those you came with, greet those you see.

Don’t go looking.

Don’t look to see who’s holding the GLF banner, to see if Gethin is alone.

Don’t look at every loud, flamboyant drag queen, hoping to see Jonathan still alive.

Don’t dare look for Mike, because you don’t have the words.

Just smile, and flirt, and flutter your eyelashes, and remember to keep the new safety rules later. You’ve had one – or more – lucky escapes.

Don’t take risks.

 

 

Another fundraiser, another dark club, another well-intentioned concert.

Another chance to miss Mark, to miss the days when everything counted.

Another chance to find mister right, or, as they say, mister right now – but remember to be safe.

But of all the people, you wouldn’t expect to see at the bar, it’s him.

 

“Jonathan!” and as he turns, Jeff realises the note of shocked surprise is, to say the least, tactless, “fabulous as always,” he adds, hoping to make up for it, and also because – he is.

Totally gorgeous. As he always was.

And only buying one drink.

Interesting.

Unable not to, Jeff bats his eyelids, puts his head on one side, and smiles with all the charm he has,

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink, or at least give me a kiss?” he asks.

Jonathan looks at him, quirks an eyebrow, and his face, so expressive even in the gloom, is deeply amused,

“Nothing changes you, pretty-Jeff, does it?” he says, “No, I’m not buying you a drink. Buy your own. Or charm one from someone with more money than me.”

Jeff shrugs good-naturedly, and pulls out his own wallet,

“At least tell me what you’re up to now, fill me in?” he says, and only hears the flirt in his words when another man laughs, and urges Jonathan to go to it, fill him in.

Jonathan looks assessingly at him, ignoring the catcalls, ignoring the blush that spreads over Jeff’s face, and then,

“Yes, come and talk away from this lot,” and takes him by the arm, leads him to what seems at first a completely random part of the crowd, then puts an arm round his shoulder, “to stop you being swept off, pretty as a picture you still are,” drinks, then, “and of course what you mean is – why am I still alive, and what have I done with Geth?”

Jeff shakes his head in denial, even though yes, those were the questions uppermost in his mind.

“Liar,” Jonathan sounds affectionate though, “and the answers are – I don’t know, probably because god likes a joke as much as anyone, maybe because Geth is some kind of witchdoctor, and I haven’t done anything with him – he just doesn't drink alcohol in this mood,” and he gestures with his pint.

Jeff looks.

And sees – oh my god – he thinks – Gethin. But he has never, ever seen Gethin like this. Gethin may not be drinking alcohol, but something has happened to loosen those inhibitions. He is lost in the music, dancing, eyes half-closed, the mascara accentuating the long lashes, the eye make-up turning the shadows and planes of his face mysterious, the painted lips an invitation – the self-absorption a barrier. The jeans he is wearing – poured into, Jeff thinks, with a shiver at the thought – are dark, shot through with a glitter that catches the light as he moves, chest bare, alone yet surrounded, part of the night, the scene, in a way Jeff had not thought he was capable of.

“Bloody hell,” he says, involuntarily.

Jonathan laughs,

“You don’t know Geth as well as you think, Jeff-boy,” he says, “come on, you only spent time with us that one year. It wasn’t a good year for us, not a time for Geth to feel much like partying. And we were always being the sensible ones, the grown-ups,” he pauses for a moment, then admits, “well, _he_ was. Being my safe-place, my home-ground, looking after the rest of you. But seriously, Jeff, did you never think, any of you, that we must have more in common than politics? That Geth was out and proud in the 70s? God, but he’s gorgeous, and he knows it.”

The last said quietly, to himself.

Jeff realises that yes, he had always assumed Jonathan was the outgoing, loud, flamboyant one – Gethin the quiet, bookish, shy one. That Jonathan must have pulled Gethin out of his shell, given him the confidence to be who he is, maybe even that Gethin only came out for Jonathan.

Doesn't make sense, not really, not when you stop and think.

Not that stopping and thinking is very easy right now, not with the music so loud, with his own body wanting to dance, with a strong arm holding him close, with this vision in front of him.

And then Jonathan pulls him closer, and speaks into his ear, very personal, very low, and wicked.

“He’s stunning isn’t he? Can you imagine how fantastic he is in bed? Look at his hips move. Thnk about it Jeff. Just think about how good that would be. Can you imagine what that sweat tastes like? Have you ever heard him cry out? Can you imagine it? How his voice sounds when he lets go, how his hands would feel on you?”

Jeff isn’t drunk enough to not be a bit – freaked – by this.

He wants to turn, to look at Jonathan, to say this is your boyfriend, what are you talking about? Why are you trying to make me jealous?

But Jonathan continues,

“He always thought you were beautiful, well you are, you know that, no changes there. But in those days, you seemed so damn young. Not quite so much like cradle-robbing now. If you wanted. And you do, don’t you? Shit, when he’s like this, half the damn room wants. And the rest are lesbians. But he’s my boyfriend, see, so there’s a condition, Jeff, just one condition. You have to let me watch. You can let him have you, enjoy you, pleasure you, anything he wants – but you have to let me watch.”

It’s like your teacher coming on to you.

Your incredibly sexy teacher, with the most gorgeous boyfriend.

Only you’re old enough, so it isn’t weird.

Not very weird.

Maybe a bit weird, but, shit.

Jeff isn’t really thinking with his head anymore.

“Why?” he manages.

Jonathan laughs, quietly, husky in his ear, and oh god, that sound is good enough on its own, almost, to have him saying yes please to anything.

“Why? Because I’d enjoy it, he’d enjoy it, you’d enjoy it. Because I know you aren’t some stupid boy to get a crush and be hanging round expecting more, you know how we are, he and I. Because I think it’s something you’ve never had the chance to do, show-off like that, and the way things are these days, it could be a while before you get such a good offer again. Because I like watching him come, I like watching him lost in pleasure, because he’s better than any porn star for me,” and then, quietly, and it almost breaks Jeff’s heart, “because I love him, and there’s things I can’t give him, risks I get scared to take – and you’re clean, aren’t you? You know how to be safe.”

Jeff nods.

He means, yes, I’m clean, I was tested not long ago, I’m careful, so careful, I know all about safety.

But when Jonathan kisses his neck, gently, and says, 

“Good boy,” he knows he meant yes to the other too.

 

 

The next part of the evening passes in something of a blur for Jeff. Not, he hastens to assure himself afterwards, because of alcohol, or anything else for that matter, anything that is, except pure lust, longing and excitement.

Because Jonathan is very, very experienced at this kind of game. He knows precisely how to keep Jeff simmering, on the brink of nervous refusal, the hesitation itself part of the fun, the wanting, the anticipation thrilling through them both as they watch Gethin dance, still oblivious to anything but the music and his own body.

“Look at them,” Jonathan breathes to Jeff again, “look at them all, wanting him, wanting to be him, wanting everything – and he doesn't even know they’re there, he wouldn’t care if he did, he’s mine, totally, utterly. But for just one night, just once, you can touch, taste, give yourself over to him. And know you’re being watched, know I’m enjoying the show, every delicious second of it, at the same time. Sounds good, doesn't it?”

And Jeff leans back against him, needing the support, because yes, yes it does. It sounds beyond good, actually.

 

 

It seems to be only as they are leaving that Gethin even registers Jeff’s existence, and only vaguely. Someone he should be polite to, someone he knows, but right now, all his attention is on Jonathan.

No.

All his attention is on how he feels, what he wants.

Jeff can’t hear what he is saying to Jonathan, doesn't want to, is feeling he shouldn’t be here, that Jonathan has made the wrong call. Gethin isn’t going to want to have a one-night with him, when he could be in bed – or wherever he is whispering about – possibly barely in the front door by the way his hands are busy – with the love of his life.

Jeff turns away, annoyed with himself for wasting a good night out on such a far-fetched fantasy. It’s the sort of thing you hear of, but doesn't happen. Or if it does, he reminds himself, it won’t end well. And now he’s on the tube with them, no way to walk away until the next stop at the earliest – further than that realistically.

 

 

His movement reminds Jonathan of his plan.

“Geth, Geth, slow down baby, slow down. Yes, I know, I do you, too, also, yes, shh. Fucks sake, listen. Behave. Idea for you. Treat. For you, yes, but for me too,” he is whispering into Gethin’s ear, wondering if his beloved is beyond the point of reason, “remember I said it would be amazing to watch you? You know how much I'd like to watch you? Yes? You and someone gorgeous? Real?”

“Jon-a-than,” stretched out, protesting.

“No, listen, honey, listen, Geth, just behave and listen, will you? See pretty Jeff? The one you always said was the most beautiful man in London? Yes? Well, he fancies you something rotten. So-oh?” Jonathan doesn't have to say more, this is an idea they have talked about, played with before. He just waits, and watches Gethin’ face flush.

“No, no, Jonathan, you haven’t, you didn’t. Please. No.”

“You said maybe, you said yes, if it was the right person, the right mood, and he is, and you are so much ready, so fucking hot tonight. Please, love.”

And, as Jeff has already discovered, Jonathan is very, very experienced at this kind of game.

 

 

 

By the time they leave the underground, and what is it about the underground, Jeff wonders, that makes it so disturbingly erotic? The background noise which means stranger’s banal conversation is muffled and made intriguing? The heat, the scent of hot bodies, which at this time of night is more like a pub than a horrible sweaty commute? The names repeated by a disembodied voice, almost asking to be sampled into a dance track? 

Or, on this occasion, the presence of two men he has “fancied rotten” for several years now, who are not only unconsciously giving him a particularly delicious show of their own closeness and mutual desire, but who seem genuinely to be about to include him?

By the time they leave the underground, Gethin has overcome his reluctance, although he is still the quietest of the three, still seems uncomfortable with the situation. When they reach the flat, he is ahead. Jeff deliberately slows, and waits while Jonathan finds his own key to lock the door, quietly he says,

“You are sure – that Gethin is ok about – what you said? Because if not – I can just have a drink and go – honestly – only he looks,” he makes a gesture to indicate Gethin’s reversion to his usual awkward self, even as he hears the music start.

Jonathan laughs, and looks beyond Jeff as he shoos him backwards up the stairs,

“He’s fine,” he says, and then, “gorgeous, you’re unnerving our guest. Geth? Oh bloody hell, question answered, I think, Jeff.”

And Jeff turns as he reaches the top of the staircase.

 

 

Afterwards however much he tries, he’ll remember it all as images, stills, clips from a movie, not as a sequence of events, this then this, then this. 

He’ll remember kneeling at the top of the stairs, and what a damn silly place that was for this sort of thing, but not caring, not thinking, just falling to his knees for Gethin, taking him into his mouth, and oh gods the taste, the taste, the feel of him. Being able to do this again without bloody latex. The sounds Gethin is making, the thrust of his hips, the complete look of abandonment on his face when Jeff raises his eyes. The awareness of an audience, of breathing behind him, realising Jonathan is stroking his hair, encouraging him, praising him, reaching forward and guiding his hands to touch Gethin, to stroke and cup and squeeze. Gethin gasping, hands against the wall, holding himself upright and then the shock of hearing normally quiet, reserved Gethin swear, even as hot liquid floods Jeff’s mouth. Swallowing.

He’ll remember worrying that it’s over now, that Gethin will be himself once more, wondering if he should reach down and touch himself, finish himself off, but then Jonathan leans over him, and kisses Gethin, and oh god, looking up to see them so practiced with each other. Jonathan reaching with one hand to touch Gethin, caressing Jeff in passing, his other hand pressing Gethin back against the wall still. Looking up as Jonathan takes his hand away, seeing him licking his fingers, tasting Gethin’s come, loving it, see the shape of his erection in his trousers, feeling it press against Jeff as he stays there, kneeling, and Gethin looks down at him, and smiles and moves his head in a silent ‘no’ even as he is about to reach down for himself. 

Gethin taking him by the hand, leading him to the living room. Registering that even this far gone, because Gethin is far gone, high on music, on sex, on wanting, but even now, he is not about to take Jeff to his and Jonathan’s bed. 

Stripping, slowly, letting the music guide him, feeling their eyes on him, their attention on him completely.

Hearing Jonathan swear softly, glowing from the compliment.

Watching as Gethin allows his lover to strip him, still silent, still unreadable.

But already very aroused once more.

Wondering for a moment how – who – which – what does Jonathan have in mind, what are they going to do.

Gethin taking control, still without words.

 

 

Standing there, for a long time, in the dim-lit room, the music playing, a dance-track perhaps, Jeff isn’t sure, but slower than some, a maddening pulsing beat, an electro-pop synth over it, vocals that aren’t clear, don’t need to be clear.

Gethin touching him, slowly, gently, all over. Moving round him, at first just fingers, then hands, then closer, kissing. Feather-light kisses to begin, brushes of lips over skin, Jeff wanting to reciprocate, but all the time Gethin keeping out of reach, keeping control. Kisses gradually becoming more, licking, sucking, tasting.

Jeff rocking his head back, eyes closing, almost pushed off his balance. 

Being caught and held by Jonathan, standing behind now, strong and gentle, whispering still, encouragement, pleasure, words of delight, of wanting to see more. Words addressed to both of them. 

Gethin kneeling now, still exploring with mouth and tongue and fingers, and it is Jeff’s turn to gasp, to lean back, and again feeling strong arms holding him steady, safe. Thinking he will come, wondering if this is what Gethin wants, because this must be something he can’t have, surely, the taste, the wonderful, wonderful taste – and knowing even so, that this isn’t really what he craves, because one man tastes as different from another there as in his mouth, so however much Gethin pretends, Jeff isn’t Jonathan.

And the thought, and the way Gethin holds him, stops him, keeps him on the edge, and he hears his voice whimpering, and is only glad there are no words in it.

Gethin resting back on his heels, taking Jeff’s hands now, pulling him down, Jonathan releasing him, to kneel also, facing, and now, now they are kissing. Full-on snogging, and how weird is this, to do this in front of Gethin’s boyfriend, and know that he has moved to watch better, to sit on the floor next to them, to watch, and oh god but Jeff thought himself practiced, thought he knew how to please a man, but bloody hell Gethin must have some stories to tell because he is truly skilled with his tongue.

No, Jeff thinks, it isn’t so much skill, as that the intensity of focus Gethin always has, the intensity that means he sometimes is more intimidating than he realises, is brought to bear here also, and Jeff thinks, vaguely, that if they just keep like this long enough, he won’t actually need anything else, beyond this feeling, beyond knowing that Jonathan is watching and breathing so hard, so turned on.

Gethin lying back, slowly, slowly, and keeping the kiss going, even as he twists himself, even as his legs entwine with Jeff, as he pulls him on top. And then more kissing, and hands, hands travelling everywhere, exploring, questioning, and now Jeff is brave, because Jonathan is telling him to be, to touch, to please Gethin, to feel just how amazing he is, to appreciate every inch of him. So he does as he is told, and moves his hips as Gethin does, and oh god who needs more than this, who needs anything more than this?

Jonathan for one, apparently, because he is talking again, that urgent voice, asking Gethin, not him Jeff notices, what he wants, what it is he wants, please love, what is it I can’t give you, now, please, want to see you lost in pleasure, please, do you want to take him, or ride him, what is it you want, whatever it is, please, I want to see your face. And there is an instant when his voice breaks and this is hurting him as much as it’s pleasing him; when for an instant Jeff sees something in Gethin’s eyes, something that says this is wonderful, but nothing, nothing compares to what he can’t have, will never have, and if there was any way to stop this, Jeff might, only that would be worse, so he doesn't, he just lowers his head, and bites gently at Gethin’s neck, and allows himself to be rolled, to be underneath, to feel Gethin above him, over him, kneeling once more.

Gethin looks beyond him, and again Jeff can feel the intensity of their shared gaze, of their emotions, as he says you know, you know what I won’t do with anyone but you, and you know what you’d want if you were me, you know what you want to see, and Jonathan’s indrawn breath is a longing, a want, a craving even as he agrees, as he says yes, wonderful, beautiful, god this is going to be so good. But Jeff is not sure, not sure what they mean, and almost he feels nervous, which is stupid because these are not two random men, these are friends, it’s safe, of course it’s safe, but still for an instant he isn’t sure, only Gethin’s eyes meet his for the first time it seems, and he smiles, and his brow arches as he says, if that's ok with you, of course, and yes, of course, even though Jeff isn’t quite sure what he’s agreeing to, he is quite, quite confident that this Gethin, this confident, experienced Gethin knows exactly what he is doing, and all will be fine.

Then there is a pressure, and his legs are bent back and up, and oh god, this is what Gethin meant, and there is a wetness, a wonderful warmth, and oh god, oh god, skilled with his tongue indeed, and once again Jeff isn’t sure if he can last, but one of them sees that, and by this point he isn’t sure which, and doesn't care, and holds him still again, and the flicking, the opening up, the teasing, ends. Leaving him panting and desperate for more, begging almost. 

Both of them now, reassuring, it’s alright, alright, just relax, not going to stop, and then those must be Gethin’s fingers, and oh it isn’t just his tongue that’s so skilled, and Jeff reaching out to touch him, wondering about safety, about the new rules, and yes, of course, he should have known these two were beyond sensible, he thinks, as Jonathan is helping unwrap the condom and put it on, and how is he still dressed, still in control? 

Gethin inside him, moving, and yes, Jeff thinks, yes he bloody can move his hips, what was that rubbish he heard once about Welsh men can’t move their hips? Only now doesn't seem the moment to say, because Gethin is lost again, lost in the feeling, the sensation, the heat and tightness, and Jeff can’t remember words, only ‘more’, and ‘yes’, and ‘please’, only that he must look good, must perform beautifully, and by the sound of it he is doing pretty well. Because he can hear Jonathan now, Jonathan breathing harsh and urgent, Jonathan swearing quietly, and he must be touching himself, must be bringing himself off watching, and oh god the thought of that, of being watched like this, sends Jeff higher and higher until he is arching his back, head back, crying out, ‘more’, ‘harder’ and oh please yes.

Feeling Gethin slow, rhythm stutter as he rides out Jeff’s orgasm, coming down to earth to see his face, and yes, that is indeed almost the best part, as he moves a few more times, the veins on his neck standing out, his eyes half-closed, mouth open in a soundless cry.

Knowing that Jonathan is still watching, hearing his gasp of effort, of satisfaction, knowing he has loved every second of it.

Jeff reaches up to stroke Gethin’s shoulders, to say thank you, to say that was good, all of it without words, because Gethin doesn't seem to want words, to look, to smile, he just hangs there breathing. And then disengages, stands, moves away, deals with the condom, walks away.

 

It is Jonathan who finds a cloth, helps Jeff clean up, makes him up a bed for the night, because it is too late, but too early also, to go wandering around the streets. Protective and grown-up as ever, Jeff thinks, but doesn't say it.

“That was amazing,” he says instead, quietly, and Jonathan smiles, before he adds, “is Gethin not going to be able to look at me now? Should I go first thing?”

Jonathan laughs, and shrugs,

“Who knows with Geth? Wouldn’t be a bad idea. He’ll be fine next time you see him – come to the shop in a couple of days, just – “

“Don’t mention this?”

“Mm,” he looks rueful, “you ok? Not going to go home thinking we’ve taken advantage?”

Jeff laughs now, and shakes his head,

“Definitely not. I know you said one-off, but – you know, say it gets near Christmas and you want a treat or something? I’ll leave my number.....”

And the hug is real.

 

 

In the dawn light, Jeff lets himself out as he half-promised.

Certainly no bad feelings, no regrets. 

Quite a spring in his step, in fact.

And the footsteps on the stairs, the closing door wake the lovers. Gethin breathes a sigh of relief, as he relaxes from a tension he didn’t know he was still feeling, a tension based far more in social awkwardness than in any actual wish not to have fucked Jeff.

“It’s the thought of what to say afterwards, next time we see him,” he explains to Jonathan’s questioning face , “how the hell do you look someone in the eye after – well – that?”

And Jonathan laughs, because Gethin never had any problem before.

“Shut up, you bastard,” he protests, laughing also, “that was different. No names, no faces recognised in those backrooms in those days. Or if you did, you didn’t admit it, it was easy to all pretend – you know that as well as I do,” and then, for the first time, he looks straight into Jonathan’s eyes and says, “I know you do. Exactly as well as I do,” and Jonathan shrugs, nodding, that yes, he also has known for some time now that they didn’t have their first time together quite the way they usually tell it.


End file.
